


As the Phoenix Rises and Falls

by airgloweffect



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Aspiring to be LV?, Blood, Drama? Of course there is!, Eventually Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy/Theodore Nott, I just stole some stuff from star wars, Magic not the same as canon, Manipulative Tom Riddle, Multi, Not set in space, Pre-relationship Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Set in the future, Star Wars inspired, There will be mature scenes, Violence, gore?, just go with it, sciencey stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:15:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29937435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airgloweffect/pseuds/airgloweffect
Summary: In a dystopic world where magic wielders are rounded up and extinguished, a small band of resistance fighters cling to the hope that they will one day live in a world where they are free to live and love as they choose.But currently, not everything is as it seems.Inspired by Star Wars and the SciFi genre in general.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Theodore Nott, Ginny Weasley/Harry Potter, Hannah Abbott/Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Luna Lovegood/Rolf Scamander, Ron Weasley/Lavender Brown





	As the Phoenix Rises and Falls

**\------------DRACO------------**

**_New London 2150 August, 15 th _ **

He had come to loathe this city- a city he had once loved; the hustle and bustle, a constant influx of people walking all over the ancient pavements, whose sidewalks had soaked up history. Now it looks nothing like the London he used to know and what he had seen in history books. The city was a wreck, for lack of a better word. The view was dispersed with patches of rubble that had never been cleaned up from the Third World War. Buildings that had been bombed remained a static reminder of what had occurred. Platforms had been erected over the rubble because there was so much of it and too challenging to remove. Some held living quarters, and others held communication stations.

He sighed as he watched the desolation and depression that loomed over the residents below, just as much as the remaining pollution from the war blotted out the suns rays. It made his heartache and bile rise when he thought about what had happened to the world and the remaining population. They were just trying to stake a life for themselves amongst the players that still fought for world domination. One thing he had learnt was the resilience of the human spirit in seemingly hopeless situations.

Or some people…his eyes darted to his partner in crime _Theo,_ who was amongst the too stubborn to die. But he supposes he would have to add himself to that list.

However, that didn’t mean that it was all sunshine and roses for people like him, _magic users_ \- the _enemy._ Slowly, the Ministry's propaganda over the decades had wholly seeped into the public consciousness; they only got news approved by the Ministry, educational programs endorsed by the Ministry and advertising dispersed by the Ministry. They owned everything and played into people’s fears about magic users. They are abominations; they are to be feared. The Ministry sucked everything out of _muggles_ lives and left only the rubbish they were peddled. Draco squeezed his eyes shut for a moment; he just wished people could see and understand that they were people too, who wanted everyday lives—not worrying about being captured and tortured like animals, just for being different.

“ _Sitrep.”_

The voice of his once nemesis spoke harshly through the comms, sitting snuggly in his ear. His foot slipped at the sharp and sudden request; he should have been paying more attention than getting lost in his thoughts. He looked over at Theo, who shot him a glare and a shake of his head.

“Nada”

“ _What?”_

“Nothing four eyes”, he could just imagine him rolling his eyes. His unit leaders’ voice call sign “ _Seeker_ ” sounded annoyed, which meant he hadn’t found the source of the magic either.

Repeats of the same followed the man’s answer, in two different voices. He wasn’t surprised – despite London being partially destroyed, it was still a sprawling metropolis with millions of people, so searching for _one_ person would be like looking at a field of haystacks and not knowing which one contained the needle. The odds should have been impossible, even with what skills he and his unit possessed.

Sometimes, though, fate lends a hand to even the playing field.

The sun was setting which provided enough cover from the Ministerial guards, but difficult in locating the source of the _awakening_. An awakening was when someone spontaneously showed their magic for the first time, and it usually produced unusual circumstances which were easy to spot. Unfortunately, easy for the Ministry to find as well. But this wasn’t Draco’s first rodeo.

He shifted to the other side of the platform to get another angle of where the explosion took place. He doubted the scared person, who probably had no idea what was happening, fled very far. Theo bumped his elbow, and he caught a slight whiff of the clove cigarettes he sometimes smoked. His smell was reassuring, comforting, especially when they knew that they might not get to see tomorrow. They had been in New London for too long, and the longer they lingered, the risk of getting caught was going up exponentially. But the Order tried their best to get to every magic user they could; no one deserved the fate of being locked up by the Ministry.

In the distance, he could see a billboard flickering through the instructions of what to do if they come across a magic-user; it was on repeat, which was no surprise. With the dwindling light, he rummaged through his satchel to find his night vision goggles.

“ _Alpha call.”_

Seeker did this, sometimes. Their unit was so small that the loss of even one person is catastrophic. Thus, every hour or so, he requested a roll call to keep tabs on everyone. It was like being at school all over again, hearing your name being called from the teacher, but Draco understood the purpose behind Seeker’s paranoia. Suddenly, Theo jumped off into the shadows below. Draco went to yell but quickly resisted the urge- that would be dangerous. He swears the other man just wants to give him a heart attack.

“Ghost, in”, he replied to his call, a little harsh, his annoyance direct and straightforward.

Names came flooding into his earpiece with varying levels of calmness. _Herbie_ , for example, spoke with a barely concealed tone of worry, his stutter more apparent in his nervousness. He was a man that disliked violence and death, though he was wholly aware that sometimes it was necessary. He preferred being with his plants, which they used for making pastes and potions. Along with Irish, those two could reverse engineer the technology that the Ministry produced. They were invaluable to the group, which was why they circled above on broomsticks, yes, _broomsticks_ , to provide support from above but be out of the thick of it. Once night completely blanketed the city, you wouldn’t see them at all.

When the roll call got to Theo’s call sign _Shadow_ nothing, but empty static crackled. Draco could hear Seeker, try again, nothing; try again; nothing. He was getting anxious, ready to leap off the platform as well and to go looking for the shifty bastard. Theo was his brother-in-arms, his best friend, his amigo. His other half. He didn’t think he could bear it if they lost him as well.

_“Miss me, did you.”_

_“Bloody hell Shadow.”_ Seeker grumbled over the comms.

“Prick”, he mumbled under his breath; he couldn’t contain the sigh of relief that came afterwards.

“ _I’m fine, but I have found a disturbance nearby.”_ The man sounded positively gleeful at the happenstance.

“ _Report.”_ Seeker sounded on the verge of calling this whole thing off, but he knew he wouldn’t. This was important, despite an ‘incident’ occurring while they just happen to be in the area, the same place they are looking for a burst of uncontrollable magic. Talk about coincidence.

“ _Two men just emptied an entire clip’s worth of bullets into a car. I can’t see the driver or the passenger, but there is no way they survived that; it’s holier than the Vatican was. Shall I take a look?.”_

A short snort escaped Draco. If there was a fight or even the vague notion that one might start, Theo was there, ready to bear witness. He wasn’t a fisty cuff kinda guy, someone who liked to get into the thick of it for the joy of a good scuffle; Theo always claimed he was too pretty to damage his face…but he just loved violence; the adrenalin rush that came with it. Sometimes, a little too much.

“ _Negative. Get out of there, Shadow; no need to draw attention.”_

“ _Yes, sir…”_ Draco could hear the pout.

The almost dispirited tone to Theo’s voice amused him, but Seeker’s order made perfect sense. Just like the explosion, a shooting was bound to attract attention from the Ministerial police and their clone soldiers, so the farther away from that Theo was from the situation, the better…even if he would love nothing more than to reduce each replicate to their fundamental parts.

Draco stood up from where he was perched, and he gripped onto a beam protruding from the concrete and leaned forward. It was high, and not many others enjoyed being up this high or enjoyed flying. He loved the feel of the wind rippling through his platinum blond hair.

In his earpiece, he could hear a conversation going on, but he hadn’t focused on it. He adjusted the magnification level of his goggles when he spotted something. They were moving faster than the slow pace of the dreary citizens, but now and then, they turned back, looking behind them, subtle enough that if you didn’t know what to look for, it wouldn’t, perhaps, be suspicious. The problem was that the Ministry was adept at it too.

Blending in was key, but being a _ghost_ was better.

The echoes of the conversation going on his earpiece started to get extremely irritating as they talked over one another, and it wasn’t even related to the job at hand. Before he knew it, a terse, angry response escaped his lips.

“Would you all shut up. I’ve got something.” The voices ceased almost immediately. He heard a faint “G _ee; he really needs to get laid”._ A small growl erupted in his throat, threatening his normally calm composure.

The outline in hazy green seemed to have picked up the pace and was hurrying towards the city's southern region or Old London, where the abandoned docks were located and a place to hide. Whomever this person was, they seemed to be intelligent enough to know what to do and aware enough of what the Ministry would do if they were ever to be captured.

“ _Location?”_

“Heading down Narrow towards Limehouse, moving quickly. Destination unclear, should I follow?”

“ _Affirmative. Remember constant vigilance.”_ The eternal words from the former commander Alastair Moody, who sadly was killed a few months after Draco joined. He didn’t like the man personally; he was always too abrupt and abrasive for his liking. But he did have his respect. The man had enough paranoia to power a small city.

“Always am.”

Herbie and Irish, the combined genius and inventiveness, truly did come up with remarkable stuff. The Knowledge Centre of their colony contained books written by their magical ancestors; all of this was taught at the school. Each child and adult found before the Ministry could learn to control their magic. Draco remembers that the previous magic users used stick conductors to focus their magic; however, genes adapted over generations, and some could use magic without a conductor. Draco was one of those and so was perfectly competent without one. But Herbie and Irish came up with a retractable ‘broom’, which each unit member carried. It was clipped to a leather pouch on the wrist, almost like a watch. You extended it to use as a broom or a conductor, a weapon- a staff or baton. At a close, it was three inches in length and fully open at six feet. It was beautiful and sleek, light but strong. He painted it black, but it was looking a little beat up with the chipped paint. He loved it.

He removed his night vision and replaced them with clear lensed goggles, his flight goggles and extended the ‘broom’. He rolled his shoulders and cracked his fingers, then spread his arms outwards, one holding onto the _staff,_ allowing himself to fall forwards off the platform in a graceful dive. This was what he loved; the rushing of the air past his face, the lightness in his stomach at the sudden change of velocity and direction, but more importantly, the feeling of being able to _fly_. It was at this moment he could forget all the problems and dangers and just _enjoy_. They all thought he was crazy to hold the _broom_ instead of riding it, but it gave him a thrill. He wanted to fly like that comic book superhero from the old world, Superman.

The ground rushed up rather quickly, and he braced himself to pull up slowly, so he didn’t lose the contents of his stomach. He was going from a vertical drop to a sudden abrupt ascent after all. Suppose he hadn’t done these hundreds of times before, he probably would have panicked and become splatter on the sidewalk. He maintained a distance above the ground that pedestrians couldn’t notice him flying above them.

As he soared above the old city, he noticed a building with a better view of the massive street below him. The dim and flickering lights illuminated the nexus of pedestrian traffic; it felt slightly ominous. Flying over and landing on the corner of the roof closest to the street, he crouches and sets his satchel down and pulls out the night vision again. He flew in the general direction the target was going and should be ahead enough to catch them coming from the west end of the street. He scans rapidly to reacquire the person.

The person disappeared, leaving only a mass of green blobs that affronted his visual cortex.

“Fuck.” he hissed angrily that in the minute or so it took for him to fall off the platform and fly to this building, he lost the target. “Fuckity fuck fuck”, he kicked off a stone, hoping it wouldn’t hurt anyone down below.

Spotting a building on the other side, he tensed his legs and prepared to leap over to it for a better look, but a sound from above made a cold lick of fear run down his spine. He knew that whirring sound; it was what every magic-user dreaded. The Ministry was here.

He tilted his head upwards and saw the _helo_ ship descending from the heavens. Well, he could see the lights that outlined it; a possible cloaking technology hid the rest. It was rectangular shaped with a sloping nose at the front, and the wings folded outwards in flight and extended upwards when hovering and landing. Another loud whirring erupted, and a small _clunk_ sounded as the back hatch opened up, like a door opening up in the ceiling of the city. Emerged one after the other two small cage transports, each carried four soldiers, with a cage in the back for whomever they captured. This was not good.

It meant that they were also searching for the newly awakened.

Switching goggles again, he watched as the two transports engaged their repulsor-thrust engines to start their search of the area. The larger helo ship closed the hatch and began moving slowly in his direction. A sharp spike of fear ripped through him, and as he instinctively dropped to the ground and flattened out, quickly grabbing his black beanie out of his bag and wrenching it over his head painfully. How could he be so stupid? His white hair was practically a beacon. If he were spotted, he would have no other option but to abandon this person and get the hell out of there, lest he and his entire unit be captured.

The humming became louder as the ship moved over him and stopped above the building, which earlier he was going to jump too. He was too scared even to swallow; his throat was thick with visceral panic. His pulse thundered in his ears, and he could barely make out what Seeker was saying in his ear. He wished he could yell for them to be fucking quiet. Didn’t they know what bloody stealth was? Here he was sprawled on the building, spread eagle; he was a friggin’ target just waiting to be shot at. He gritted his teeth, so hard his jaw ached; he managed to force out “ _silence_ ”, hoping they would be quiet. He was so tense he had forgotten to take a breath, but he was internally losing it. His gaze remained locked onto the helo ship, praying that they would fly off.

Seconds passed or minutes, not that he was counting, but his lungs certainly were.

Finally, after an eternity, the ship indolently flew off in a northerly direction, and his lungs allowed themselves to work again, the incapacitating fear subsiding with every metre that the ship flew away from him. He relaxed, his muscles almost melting into the concrete and allowed himself a few moments to compose himself.

“Houston, we have a problem.”

“ _Report.”_

“I lost…I lost visual, and a Ministerial helo just flew over me. I wasn’t seen, but I think they know where the target is. Two cage transports have been deployed”.

“ _Keep on their six._ _Do you want backup?”_ He stood up on shaky legs and leant on his staff for support. He found and kept the cage transports in vision. He wasn’t going to lose them if they knew where the target was.

He started leaping or lightly flying to the next building to catch up, but he remained in a blindspot and far enough away that they wouldn’t see him until it was too late. He thought about the question; he didn’t really need back up; taking on seven lemmings, and their babysitter would be easy. Easy- _ish_. The clones, or nicknamed lemmings, where literally clones, and they had their leader or babysitter, who had more thought. They weren’t entirely sure if the leader was a real person or a highly advance clone.

“Nah, should be good” he ran full pelt across the top of another building and made a giant leap and smacked into the side of the building with an “ _oof_ ”, he managed to shuffle his hands along until he could drop on the balcony ledge. He slowly climbed down to the next balcony to watch as the cage transports landed. He knew that Seeker would have engaged the closet person to come as a backup; they usually _never_ engaged the enemy alone. Caution kept them alive this long and a sheer amount of stubbornness.

The clones were dressed in all black with black shiny body armour, red stripe on each leg, their numbers printed on their chest plate, and black helmets with clear visors. The leader, instead of red stripes, had gold and had a reflective coating on the visor. They were dressed to intimidate, and when they were in high numbers, they did. Draco had no problem eviscerating the lemmings.

The anxiety snaked its way up and coiled in his chest as he crept closer and closer to the ship. He crouched behind some bins as he watched the cage transports open and the soldiers lined up in perfect formation, ready for instructions.

The message the Ministry regularly spat out was _reunification_. Yes, reunification indeed – one mind-singular thought- and no free will. Reunification, his arse. He patiently watched as they broke down the door to a dilapidated warehouse.

“They’re breaking down the door”. He whispered but loud enough that Seeker should hear.

“ _Don't even think about it, Ghost; wait for Shadow."_ Seeker responded with a forceful growl that was _not_ missed and not ignored.

His leg started bouncing in anxiety; he couldn't just sit here and wait! Who knew how far out Theo was…what if. Too many what-ifs spun inside his end with the endless possibilities of this situation. The biggest what if was if he waited too long and they grabbed the target, then that was it. Mission over.

He fiddled with his goggles and fixed his beanie; he was antsy. He heard a high pitched scream, and that made him snap. He couldn't wait any longer.

"I'm going in."

He heard angry yells in his earpiece, but he ignored them. They weren't here; they didn't know. There were two lookouts and the broken-down door. He strolled right up, _expect the unexpected bitches._

"Wilson, Larry, nice to see you again!" he stated jovially, like this wasn't a kill or be killed situation. "You started the party without me", he clutched his chest in mock offence. Just as they turned to see who the hell was talking to them, he whipped his staff to the side as Wilson went to raise the enormous blaster he held in his clony gloved fingers. Effectively knocking it out of his hands and sent it scattering off into the darkness. He did a backwards sweep, clocking Larry in the head, making him stumble and lose balance. Sending a blaster shot off that just missed Draco's head, but he didn't stop and brought the staff down as hard as he could on the top of Wilson's head, knocking him out. Draco swung out again in sharp, quick movements, sending Larry's blaster off against the closest wall and breaking it. Larry lunged out, a reflexive action, to try to grab the blaster but caught Draco's staff. He yanked it forward so he could reach one of Larry's wrists, using the staff's force to bend the arm and then kicked out with his leg, dislocating it. He proceeded to grab Larry's head, twisting to break his neck. Draco pivoted to pick up his staff and walk into the warehouse when he heard a scrap of metal behind him.

"Freeze!" Damn it; he must not have hit Wilson hard enough. He felt the cold press of metal at the back of his neck. He swallowed thickly as he calculated his chances that he could move out of the way in time.

As he mentally prepared himself, he heard the sharp air intake, then a wet struggle of breath, with a resultant guttural moan. He turned around, ready to swing first ask questions later. But mid-swing, he saw the clone struggling to stand, trying and failing to grab the knife protruding out the side of his neck. After a few seconds, with a wet thunk, he hit the ground.

“Well, that was anticlimactic.” He looked up to Theo, the black-haired man with brilliant sapphire blue eyes and gave him a cheeky grin.

"You really need to learn to watch your six, Ghost ." Theo bent down to pull out the knife, yanking hard then wiping the blood off on the clone's sleeve. Theo was dressed in the same black combat boots as him, same black cargo pants and black long sleeve shirt; he looked dark, dangerous and broody and god that made his mouth go dry.

He rolled his eyes at Theo.

"Okay," he snappily retorted as he held three fingers up, ready to check them off one by one. “One, gross. Two, I had it under control, and three, you took your sweet arse time."

Theo smirked almost maliciously and winked at him, making his heart skip a beat and offered a hand to the broken doorway.

"Ladies first princess."

Draco scowled at his closest friend then stuck his tongue out, to which Theo just laughed. He enjoyed making Theo laugh; he didn’t laugh that much anymore. He walked into the warehouse, quickly moving along the perimeter behind crates stacked at random heights for cover. Voices could be heard, and he didn’t need to check behind him to ensure that Theo was keeping up. He stopped at the sudden sound of blaster fire, dropping down. Draco crept along slowly, peeking in gaps to get a good line of sight to see what was happening. The sound of the babysitter barking orders at the lemmings wasn’t so muffled as they got closer. More blaster fire erupted, along with more yelling by the babysitter. Draco decided to duck his head around to get the full assessment of the situation.

He stood up slowly, still being careful to remain hidden. He peeked over the top of two stacked crates, and the lemmings had their backs to them, which made this much more manageable. The woman was standing surrounded by broken crates, she was scared, but there was a fire in her eyes.

"I’m not going anywhere with you!” a blaster shot off to the side of her; she summarily screamed but then replied with a “Fuck you!”

"Sounds feisty," Theo whispered with amusement in Draco’s ear, which made the blonde-haired man shiver. He looked to his periphery to see Theo also peeking over the top of the crates.

“Just _leave_ me alone!” she’s raising her hands as she is talking, punctuating her words, and Draco can see what is about to happen; he grabs Theo and yanks him down as there is another small explosion. Bits of splintered wood fly overhead, some of it on fire.

Theo is poking his head up in a second, then jerks down quickly, eager to avoid getting hit in the face by something on fire.

“There is plenty of smoke and fire, but it won’t be long before the whole place is up in flames. We need to hurry. Incapacitate as we go.” Theo offers a hand up, which he takes.

"Let’s play” Theo draws out two vicious looking blades and runs straight into it. Draco has a wide playful smirk as he twirls his staff around, following after his friend. The clones that are still alive start shooting in random directions once they see Theo running towards them. No matter how much he has been in battles side by side with Theo, Draco was always awestruck by the way the man moves. It was graceful and nimble as he jumps, twirls and leaps sure-footed while swinging, cutting and thrusting his blades at and into bodies. He was vicious and bloodthirsty, which scared him, but there was no one he would rather fight with.

He quickly dispatched a lemming that was partly on fire when he noticed another coming up behind Theo, who was engaged with the babysitter in hand to hand, which wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Hey, Bro!” he called out to the other clone, which got his attention off Theo and focused on him. “Come on, come at me.” he started shooting, which Draco was quickly able to sidestep. He swung low at the clone, aiming for his ankles, knocking him down- he wasn’t going to make the same mistake this time. Then swivelled to hit the blaster sending it flying, and in one well-practised move, he pulled his knife from his thigh holster and stabbed the clone in the chest, in the gap between the body armour. He was feeling satisfied that he did the job, _thump- what the?_

He looked down to see what had hit him- a severed leg. “I don’t want to know”, he muttered as he cleaned off and re-holstered his knife. Draco started looking around, and his gaze froze on the woman. She was crouched down next to a crate; she looked lost entirely with both hands in her fiery red hair. He made his way slowly over to her, more than aware of the state the warehouse was in. If they didn’t make a move in the next few minutes, they were going to be trapped in here. He used a bit of his magic to push the smoke away from him and her, so they had air to breathe.

She looked up as he got closer, stopping in him in his tracks. The expression nearly broke his heart. He knelt to her level, didn’t want to be scaring her any more than she already was.

“Hey…my name is Draco. What’s yours?” the seemingly innocuous question startled her, and she stared blinking owlishly at him.

“M-my…ah…Ginny”, the fiery attitude from before has retreated into itself. He had to strain to hear; she spoke so softly.

“Hi Ginny..” they were interrupted by a falling beam; the roof was going to collapse. “How about we get out of here?”, he didn’t wait for her answer; he reached out and gripped her forearm, pulling her up and along. He didn’t give her a second thought while running, just dodged and weaved around debris. When he could, he scanned for Theo, but all he could see was plumes of black smoke. His eyes were stinging, and his lungs felt like there were burning.

“Are you okay?” he could have slapped himself for the stupid question once they were safely outside.

“Define, okay”, Ginny replied in between coughing. After a minute, she tentatively asked, “Wh-who are you?” He frowned at her for a moment…didn’t she remember? His silence must have been telling.

“I…I mean”, Ginny cleared her throat before continuing, “I mean, you’re not Ministry…”

“Oh!, no..no no no no, we are not them. Buuut you do need to come with us” Draco smiled what he thought was a disarming smile. “We’re here to help you….” He trailed off, realising she wasn’t paying attention to him anymore but looking behind him with wide eyes. Annoyance bubbled up that perhaps some of the lemmings escaped the roof collapsing.

“Don’t tell me..” he muttered, turning around. Still, with a slightly sickened and incredulous expression, Draco watched as Theo came strolling towards them with blood spattered over his face, holding a decapitated head in one hand; the man was a complete psycho, but he loved him.

"Seriously, Shadow, collecting souvenirs now?" Theo grinned devilishly, then casually threw the head, making it roll like a demented bowling ball.

“Should I start mounting them on the wall, like hunting trophies?”

“You’re sick.”

“You love it”, Draco shrugged; he couldn’t deny it.

He turned back to Ginny, whose eyes were darting wildly between the two of them. “Don’t worry about him, we’re the good guys!, He just occasionally likes to hack the lemmings to pieces”, he tried to keep upbeat to let her know he was joking…well, not _really_.

“Yes, Ghost, because playfully talking about dismemberment is going to win her over, very suave, my dear”, Theo deadpanned.

“Hey, I gotta work with what I got,” he said, poking Theo in the chest.

"Hey, you okay over there?" Theo ignored Draco to focus on Ginny; they really needed to get moving. Otherwise, they were all going to get caught by that helo ship he saw earlier. With the lemmings and babysitter dead, no one was going to report back.

"Please, just…s-stay away!"

"I'm afraid not. We need to get this princess back to his castle before he turns back to a pumpkin,” Draco snorted loudly at the Old World reference.

“Seriously though, Ginny, we're the good guys. We're here to help you, and we need to get moving before the Ministry return.”

"H-How?! How can you help me?" she responded with an anguished tone, and the cracks in her voice told Draco and Theo that she was desperately trying to stop herself from crying. He could easily understand why. First, she found out that she was magical; something everyone is taught is a _bad_ thing by the Ministry. Second, she fled and tried to hide from the aforementioned authorities, and thirdly spent the last ten minutes fighting for her life against those who would make her disappear. She was overwhelmed.

“We’re just like you” he opened his palm and concentrated on creating a little bluebell flame that hovered just above his skin. He extinguished it quickly; too much magic attracts the Ministry. He tried to inject as much warmth into his gentle tone and smile as he could; he needed her to trust them. She looked at them through her bright blue eyes, with burgeoning inquisitiveness but still a sliver of fear.

“I almost forgot, this nut job is Theodore Nott”, Theo theatrically bowed, with an “ _At your service, ma’am”._

She recoils a little at Theo, “Ginny…Ginny Weasley” Theo nodded respectfully, he may be a killer, but he was still a gentleman.

"W-what's going to happen to me?" her chin wobbled, curious but scared of the potential answer.

Draco regarded her, wondering if she was even ready for the sudden change her life has and will take. He sighed, reaching up to rip off the beanie- it was starting to get itchy.

“Well,” Theo interrupted before he could even start, “if you don’t come with us, you could take your chances here in Old London, but I wouldn’t count on lasting very long” Draco shot him a look, to which Theo replied with a “ _What? it’s true.”_

"The _other_ ," Draco cut in before Theo could finish with his doom and gloom, his gaze lingered on his peer before they softened and returned to her eyes, "is you can come with us. We'll protect you and teach you how to control your powers. There are many others like you, and you wouldn’t have to do this alone." He held out his hand, hoping she would take it for what it was; a peace offering, a show of support, a future.

“Okay”, doubt clouded her tone, overwhelmed by the sheer surrealness of the situation, but she gently put her hand in his.

"Well then”, his smile turned bright and genuine “, Welcome to The Order Ginny.”

* * *

**_\---------_ Hermione--------**

**_New London, 2150 August 17 th _ **

**_Apartment of Hermione Granger_ **

Hermione felt like she couldn't breathe; she was so overwhelmed and paralysed with grief that she couldn't take a breath. She collapsed, barely registering the plush threads cushioning her knees as she hit the floor. An arm went out, clutching the edge of the sofa to offer support for her crumbling world. A scream clawed it's way up her throat, and her free hand quickly clamped over her mouth to prevent it from escaping. The noise would make it seem so real, a reality she wasn't ready to handle just yet.

She wasn't ready. Would she ever be ready?

Her parents were dead.

Her breaths came in shaky heaves, rocking her entire body. Her mind was light but heavy, messy but blank save for the words replaying over and over…

_Dead_

_Dead_

_Dead_

_They were dead._

_Alone. All alone._

Eventually, the dam wall was breached, and her grief spilled over the causeway; a seemingly insurmountable wave of pain crashed into every aspect of her life—hot tears, etched tracks down her cheeks, a misery that everyone would forever see. She slumped down on to the carpet, no longer able to hold her self up against the anguish that wracked her body, as she finally allowed herself to accept the realisation that she would indeed be alone.

***

**_New London, 2150 September 25 th _ **

Time continued to move, oblivious to the pain and fury that was consuming the young woman. She was angry, and everything just had a pointlessness to it. Nothing held the same spark of energy as it once did. The house was empty; it was all hers. It was quiet, and it was driving her mental. She would never hear her parents voices anymore, never listen to them tell her they loved her. She was sick to death of people’s offer of condolences. They were so fake. It was bullshit. She was just so angry. Why?

Why did they have to leave her to deal with this alone?

How dare they take them away from her?

Ugh, she was just so mad. She hadn’t realised she was curling her hands into tight fists, her fingernails digging into the soft flesh of her palm, until the point of pain. She unclenched them and watched as the red half-moon shapes bloomed on her skin. She wondered if they would be the constant reminder of her misery and fury.

The door knocked. Hermione blinked at the unusual sound; no one came to the door since her parents died. It was always on the Sorovid or the SoroComm; no one wanted to confront the genuine uncomfortable feelings related to death, so they did it with a small smile and at a distance. The person knocked again, and it took a moment for her brain to catch up that, yes, _someone was indeed knocking on the door._

Hermione reluctantly opened it to a military man, an officer of some description. He was tall, with soft dark wavy hair impeccably styled, with his cap positioned firmly upon his head. The man gave a thin polite smile and removed his hat from his head to nestle underneath his arm. He was incredibly good looking, but something about him just gave off an uneasy vibe.

“Ma’am”, his lips curled into a slightly wider smile showing off some glistening white teeth. He reminded her of a shark about to devour its prey. She closed her eyes briefly to get her bearings…why was the military at her doorstep?

“How can I help you, officer?” she may as well get this over with; she wasn’t really in the mood.

“My apologies for the intrusion. I’m Colonel Tom Riddle, and I head the command at Cornell Park”, she frowned. She had heard of Cornell Park, some secret Ministerial base, but again she had no idea what the hell he was doing on her doorstep. “Would it be an imposition to talk privately, Miss Granger?”

She chewed on her bottom lip, thinking, a nervous habit, that perhaps she should just step aside and see what he wants. She would admit later that her curiosity was piqued.

“Ah, no Colonel, come in. Would you like something to drink?”

Hermione would also later admit to herself that this moment was where everything started to go wrong.


End file.
